Dependence
by melanie
Summary: Our two favorite fibbies have a fight..


Author: melanie 

Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to own Mulder and Scully, I don't. I'm just one of many writers borrowing them. Don't sue.

Feedback: Hey, everybody, it doesn't take that long to review a story. Or drop me an e-mail at [starchica8@cs.com][1]. Whatever floats your boat, just tell me what you think. Now, enjoy!

  
  


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I never talk to my partner. Yeah, I know what you're saying. Right bud, you haven't said a single word to her for seven years. Uh-huh. But I'm not kidding. We joke, we discuss, and we argue almost every day. So why can I count the number of times that I've actually communicated with her, in a personal sense, on the fingers of one hand? Ok, it's possible that I'm exaggerating slightly but...no, nevermind. Now that I think about it, I'm not. There was our 'first night together' out in Bellefleur- and wasn't that anything but. It probably doesn't even count as communication. I wasn't really telling her about myself, I was letting her know what the ground rules were. 'My sister disappeared one night, so now I'm an alien nut called Spooky and God only knows how I got past the FBI psych screening. Got that? We understand each other? Good. End of conversation.' Yeah, I communicated pretty well back then. And it's only gotten better. 

I keep trying to tell myself that she doesn't really want to communicate. Scully is a very independent woman. People like that have to protect themselves in order to stay that way. It's kind of a vicious cycle, actually. You become independent, but in order to retain that, you have to avoid getting to know anyone too well, or else you could get to be dependent on them. And so independent turns into introverted and...well, I'm sure you get the point, and I'm rambling. 

I convinced myself that she's protecting herself by not wanting to get to know me too well. But frankly, I've been fooling myself all along. Sure, she's independent, but she's not dependent on her independence. (That makes sense in Mulderspeak, so the rest of the world will just have to do the best they can with it.) Anyway, it's not Scully that avoids communication, it's me. I've been dependent on people, but every damn person I've learned to trust has betrayed me or let me down. So I became independent and...well, that's the way I defend myself. When someone gets too close, I shake them with a joke or some devil-may-care remark. 'Captain, they're closing on us!'...'Evasive maneuvers, lieutenant! Quickly!' The moment is lost, but it's never any great loss to me. Or so I like to think. Yet somehow I've learned to trust Scully, learned to let some of the weight on my shoulders transfer to hers and...hell, how did I get to depend on someone without ever getting to know her?

"Mulder. You can be so lazy!" Excuse me, I believe that my partner of four years is accusing me of laziness. Did I miss something?

"What?" I ask. Her eyebrows are raised, for a change, and she's looking decidedly frustrated.

"Can you ever file ANYTHING properly? Mulder, this office is a mess. I can't work like this."

"And that makes me lazy?"

"Mulder, have you ever heard of 'a place for everything, and everything in its place'?" Had she seen my apartment recently? Wait, no, of course she hadn't, that would be something akin to getting to know each other. Right.

"I may have heard it in a past life." If I'm noncommital and vague, maybe she'll just get too frustrated to yell at me.

"Right. Well, start remembering it. I understand this when we've been off investigating, but Mulder, we haven't been on a trip in a month. I'm not kidding, Mulder. It doesn't take that much effort to file these things. Alphabetically." Or maybe not.

"Scully, I know where everything is. Just ask me when you need something." 

Suddenly her eyebrows go slack and she looks tired. Her head bows, and she leans forward, her arms tensing to support her slumped weight. From my sitting position, I can see her bite her lip. Was it something I said? Then she looks up, her eyes hard and her expression set. Warning signals started going off in my head, but it's little late to do anything. We've been bordering on confrontation for days now, it's inevitable. Still, I have a sudden, irrational urge to duck under my desk.

"Fine. They're your x-files, it's your office, and it's your life. I'll just ask nicely whenever I want you to let me in. And if I'm lucky, maybe you'll be in a good mood. Meanwhile, it's five o'clock, and I have my own life too. Good night, Mulder." Well, hadn't I just walked right into that. Mr. Sensitivity, that's me. And now I have not only a very angry partner on my hands, but she's upset about the one issue I've always avoided, which means I either forfeit the relationship or actually face it. How do other people survive those heart-to-heart conversations, anyway? I hate them.

I remember the time that Eddie Van Blundht locked me in the janitor's closet. That got old fast. And when I did get out, where, of all places, was our favorite shapeshifter? With 'his' partner, naturally. Apparently he'd managed to get up the nerve to put the moves on Scully. After about three hours. And I'd been working with her for years. Any flaws in that picture? I can think of a few, but I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions. Oh yes, and it gets better. Van Blundht's recipe for instant love? A bottle of wine, mixed in with a dash of conversation. Damn it, conversation! He talked to her for a little while and she was ready to kiss him and who knows what else. Of all the things that I could give her, that's the one thing I'm afraid to give. Because I'd be giving her my independence. 

And sick as it is, that's the one thing I am most afraid to lose. Except Scully, but I honestly don't know which is more important to me. That's pretty pathetic, Mulder. 'And here's the million dollar question: what's more important to you, your independence or your partner/best friend?' (Yes, despite the fact that I've avoided getting to know her, she's my best friend. Another sad commentary on my life.)...'Umm, I going to have to take one of my lifelines on that.' Pop quiz: if I ever was on that stupid show, who would I call for help? You get three guesses, and the first two don't count.

I hope that one is allowed to change a statement in mid-whine, because I'm going to whether it's allowed or not. I've been saying that I'm independent, but I have a confession to make: I'm not. So you should change your view of this little monologue accordingly. But although I depend on her, I can't admit it to myself. Or at least I can't admit it to her or to myself or...fine. I'm not fooling anyone. She knows that I depend on her, I know I depend on her, and we both know that the other knows that I depend on her. It's one of those unspoken things that's only sustained by my foolish pride.

I really resent that little personality flaw of mine sometimes.

Well, this is my chance to change it, I suppose, but somehow I'm really not very excited about the opportunity. Another conversation, another person learns just how much of a loser I really am. I always hoped that I'd manage to keep Scully in the dark on that one...but if you tried to fool all of the people all of the time, Scully would be the person who would see through the lie. And so I guess I'll have to face the music.

Why do things have to change? I know how the world works, I know that things will change almost no matter what you do to stop them, but I've been doing so well for the past five years. It's all about routine, in the twisted FBI sort of way. Routine for me is falling asleep to the comforting sounds of old movies or infomercials. Routine is calling the nine hundred numbers or watching those ownerless videos even though I don't get any real pleasure out of it. Routine is throwing myself into my work with as much energy as I can find, devoting my life to a single cause, accomplishing something. 

And my life's work is to make order out of chaos, though some would say that I make chaos out of what already has order. They're right, though. For everything I solve, I cast doubt on something else. If I ever become religious, expect the downfall of Christianity to follow shortly. There's just something about me, I guess. 

And I guess that's why things change.

I know I should go talk to Scully. Instead, I'm sitting here staring at the wall. As if it's going to give me some kind of answer. What am I going to say to her, anyway? I've never really had to apologize to her. How does she take apologies? Will she glare at me, freeze me with her eyes? Or worse, not look at me at all? Does she yell, or talk in a quiet, wounded tone that I won't be able to stand? There's way too much I don't know about her, considering how big a part of my life she is. Does she cry? The last time she cried in front of me was the Donny Phaster incident. I could only hold her, thanking every supreme being that I know of that I hadn't lost her again. I couldn't have taken the guilt. And that's my replacement for a real friendship, to keep her safe as much as I can. It's not much, but it's something. But I almost lost her that day, and she cried. If she cried again, could I take it? On the other hand, if she did, I'd know that I meant a lot to her...is that what I want, after all the time I've been denying it? Four years later and I still don't know.

Time to find out, though. I get up from my desk, deciding once and for all that I'm going to talk to Scully, figure out what we want from our relationship. The real one I've strived to keep from developing. Am I ever scared.

  
  


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Hmmm, should I write the rest of this or just quit while I'm ahead? Let me know, [starchica8@cs.com. Really. Hope you liked it!][2]

   [1]: mailto:starchica8@cs.com
   [2]: mailto:starchica8@cs.com.



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